by Chris Hawley
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A BURGLARY
At lunchtime I called Sonia’s number again but still there was no answer. The chief librarian may know where she lives, I thought. With that idea in mind I told my mum I was going to the library for an hour but I would be back home before 4 o’clock. I was worried about Sonia but I also wanted to follow Pietersen’s innings.
Before leaving the house I moved the curtain aside an inch and surveyed the street in case the house was being watched. I saw nothing unusual.
Mrs. Rogers, the chief librarian, a kindly, middle aged woman, gave me the directions to Sonia’s house and asked me to let her know if Sonia was sick and if there was anything she could do to help.
I found Myrtle Road easily. The houses were small, brick-built semi-detached houses that I guessed were built soon after the end of First World War. The front gardens were small and the builders had not thought it worth building garages. Owners parked their cars in the gardens. I walked along on the side of the odd numbers. I passed No. 43 without stopping. The front garden was neglected, with tall weeds almost up to the front room window sill. There was no car parked outside. The upstairs curtains were drawn but otherwise I saw no sign nor heard any sign of life. I walked to the end of the road and down the other side. Then plucking up courage, I crossed the road, walked up the short, concrete drive of No. 43 and rang the bell.
Silence!
I waited. Then I rang the bell a second time. Again, no sound came from inside the house. There was a wooden door at the side of the house leading to the back garden. It was not locked so I went through. I tried the side door into the kitchen but it was locked. I was nervous in case Albert Smith should suddenly decide to come home but my anxiety about Sonia and my hope of recovering the stolen things was a more powerful force. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I said to myself. I turned the corner into the back garden and surveyed the house. There was a small window open in what looked like the bathroom. Did I dare climb in there? A neighbour could easily see me and call the police. How would I explain that he had stolen a Martian outfit from me and I had come to get it back? The local cops would hardly believe that!
Then I had an idea. There was a ladder propped up against the small shed at the bottom of the garden. I found a bucket and a cloth in the shed. I slid the ladder up the wall of the house until it was next to the open window and, empty bucket and cloth in hand, I climbed the ladder and began cleaning the windows. A window cleaner is a common sight. With luck, no-one would bother to look twice.
After cleaning the window as best I could with a dry cloth and no water, I put my hand through the small window until I found the catch of the larger one. I opened it, looked round to see if I could see anybody watching, said a quick prayer and climbed carefully in. I tiptoed downstairs and went out of the back door of the kitchen to retrieve the ladder, which I replaced where I had found it. Then I went back into the house.
I had a good look round the ground floor. It was clean and tidy and I was sure Sonia must have done many hours of housework. I couldn’t imagine Albert Smith to be very house-proud. Various family photos stood on mantle pieces and sideboards. I recognised Sonia in various stages of childhood. What must she have thought when her mother left home?
I looked in all the cupboards but found nothing interesting. Then I climbed the stairs as quietly as I could. I was sure there was nobody at home but I was not going to take any chances. There were three bedrooms. The first one, facing the back of the house, was Sonia’s. It was neatly kept but empty. On a table in the corner she had left some writing materials and a novel. I scanned the open page of the writing pad. It was full of doodles. Among them was my name, written in various ways, interspersed with roughly drawn hearts. I didn’t want to see any more. It was not the first evidence the girl was sweet on me.
The door to the front bedroom was closed. I opened it gingerly and peeped in. If there was an opposite of Sonia’s room, this was it. The table was littered with papers and books. Over the back of the chair were several shirts and trousers. The bed was unmade.
I started looking in the cupboards in the remote chance that I would find something of mine, but there was nothing.
At that moment my phone rang and it made me jump. Ben’s name was on the screen.
‘Hey Bill! Are you watching?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘What do you mean, ‘not exactly’,’ he said. ‘You either are or you’re not!’
‘I’m not, actually. How is the game going?’
Ben laughed. ‘Well, I’ve kissed goodbye to my two quid. Vaughan is out and England is in trouble.’
‘Has Pietersen gone in yet?’ I asked hopefully.
‘Just now. I don’t know how long he’ll last though.’
‘He’ll put England right back on top, don’t worry,’ I said confidently.
‘We shall see. So where are you? What’s more important than the cricket?’
‘Actually, I’m at Sonia’s.’
‘Aha! So that’s what’s more important.
‘It’s nothing like that, Ben. In fact Sonia’s not here.’
If she’s not there, what the hell are you doing in her house?’
Breaking and entering.’
‘You’re pulling my leg, right?’
‘Straight up, Ben. I’m not joking. I came here to find Sonia. She didn’t go to work today and she hasn’t been in contact.’
Ben whistled. ‘Careful, man!’
Suddenly I heard a key in the lock of the front door. My heart almost jumped into my mouth. I almost dropped the phone in my panic.
‘Ben!’ I whispered into the phone, ‘I have to hide, there’s someone coming!’
I switched off the mobile and stuffed it into my pocket. I looked frantically for somewhere to hide. I could hear heavy footsteps plodding up the stairs slowly. Those don’t belong to Sonia, I thought. There’s only one body that can make that sound, Albert Smith. I dived under the bed. It was not the best of places but I had no choice. I lay there, sweat pouring off my brow and my hands shaking. The steps had reached the landing. The next moment the bedroom door flew open and I saw his boots clump noisily round the bed to the side by the window. I turned over carefully to face the boots. One by one they were kicked off. Then I saw the trousers being lowered to the floor.
At that moment two pound coins dropped to the floor with a soft plop as they hit the threadbare carpet. One of them spun round a couple of time and then, horror of horrors, it rolled under the bed and came to rest a few inches from my nose. Then I saw a hand reach down. First it picked up the one that had landed near one of his boots and then the hand was groping under the bed for the other one. I lay there, petrified. The hand came nearer to my face, the fingers searching, first this side and then that. I prayed that it would retrieve the coin. What I should have done was to move the coin myself to within reach of the hand but there are things in life that you should do but somehow you don’t and you spend the rest of your life wondering why you didn’t. The hand was withdrawn and a round, red face took its place, the face of Albert Smith.
You could say that Albert Smith was surprised to see me under his bed and it would be the biggest understatement of the century. He lay there on the floor looking at me for a good ten seconds.
‘Okay, out you come!’ he said finally, getting to his knees and then to his feet. He was not a very agile man. He hoisted up his trousers and did up the belt.
I crawled out and stood up to face him.
‘And would you mind telling me what the hell you are doing in my house?’
‘I came to see Sonia,’ I replied rudely.
‘Sonia’s not here. You probably won’t see her again.’
I looked at his face with loathing. ‘What have you done with her?’
‘D’ye think I’d harm my own daughter? You must have a very low opinion of me.’
‘I do, very low,’ I said, anger building up in me.
My head was jolted sideways as he s
lapped my face hard. I put up my hand to feel my cheek. It began to smart.
‘I wouldn’t harm a hair of her head,’ he said. ‘She’s all I’ve got. No, I’ve sent her away to her Aunt’s for a month. When the money starts coming in I’ll bring her back and we’ll move from this place.’
‘What about her job? I asked quietly, still holding my stinging cheek.
‘Her job? She’ll not need that job. I told you already, I’ve got great things lined up for her.’
‘Like an Italian Count with ten yachts,’ I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster. I smiled a thin bitter smile.
‘You can make fun. Smile as much as you like, but soon you’ll be smiling on the other side of your face.’
‘Where does the Aunt live,’ I asked, hoping that I might yet help her.
‘Canada. My sister lives in Toronto. She called this morning. Sonia has already arrived there. I told her to take away her passport and her money. I don’t want her running away before I’ve done what I have to do.’
Canada! I wondered how I could possibly help her, so far away.
‘Now,’ said Albert Smith, ‘have you changed your mind yet?’
‘No, and I never will!’ I shouted.
‘A pity,’ he said softly. ‘Well, I did warn you boy. We can still make the Saturday edition or even Friday. I’ve got till six o’clock.’
‘Please yourself,’ I said defiantly. ‘Now let me go: my mum is expecting me.’
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ he said flatly.
I stared at him. ‘You won’t get away with this.’ I almost said that my friends knew that I was there but I stopped myself in time.
He just laughed his unpleasant laugh. He then frisked me, removing the contents of my pockets, money, keys and the mobile phone, all of which he put on top of his dressing table. Then twisting my right arm behind my back he pushed me in front of him, out of the room and down the stairs. He took a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door of a cupboard under the stairs. He tied my hands behind my back with some thin, red, plastic-coated wire, which he had stored in the cupboard and trust me inside, closing the door.
Inside the cupboard it was pitch black. I searched around with my feet and found what felt like a box. I sat down on it carefully and leant against the wall. A moment later the door opened and Albert Smith placed a large tin on the floor in front of me.
‘Just in case you’re caught short,’ he said with a grin.
‘And how am I to……’ I indicated my tied hands.
‘That’s your problem. You’ll not be drinking anything till tomorrow so maybe you won’t need it,’ and with that he shut the door.
My wrists were already beginning to hurt from the electric wire tied tightly around them and my hands felt as though they would drop off. My cheek still hurt from the blow he had given me with the flat of his hand. How was I going to survive until the next day, without light, food or water. I decided I had no choice and I would have to sit it out. I had read about people spending years in solitary confinement and coming out alive. But I was not to know how long Albert Smith was going to keep me there.